Transcendental Transportation

Transcendental Transportation

As if

trans-lucid lands

Cupid

-to dash across a fiery lake

In fitting passion

of a solemn choice

(later found to be a mistake)

Love let (like it just does)

let’s wet kin: hit dust done

like wasn’t was

but we will

forever be

magenta

at duck.

Lust heaven

trust Hell

-or

what-so-ever

that anvil that fell straight down.

 

How!

how low–

loon;

pale moon

delights me–

enlighten thee

just a mere eyelash

hair from restraint.

Awake!

to a fear of lust

of fear my dear

Boo-boo

bruised and bubonic

like rats

aware of the plague

which walks behind

our grace.

 


About this entry